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Fic: Quick and Dirty: NC-17: Rogue/?: 1/1:

Title: Quick and Dirty Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net] Summary: Friday nights at the Montague Hotel have become my favorite thing in the whole

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, May 10, 2002

Title: Quick and Dirty
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: "Friday nights at the Montague Hotel have become my favorite
thing in the whole world."
Rating: NC-17 - pure PWP
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool. If you want, ask.
Feedback: Is better than Thin Mints and iced cappuccino.
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Melissa, Dot, and Meg. This has no redeeming
social purpose whatsoever.
Date: May 10, 2002

~*~

Quick and Dirty

Friday nights at the Montague Hotel have become my favorite thing in the
whole world.

See, every Friday night since I gained control of my powers, my routine
is the same. I slip out of the mansion, unnoticed, unmissed, dressed in
as little as possible, and I head to the bar at the Montague Hotel.

It's a nice bar, upscale, the way you'd expect a posh Westchester hotel
bar to be. There are leather seats and heavy wood tables. The bar itself
is mahogany, and polished until it gleams.

Harry the bartender knows me now. I slide onto a stool and smile, and my
Absolut and cranberry is in front of me almost before I put down my
purse. When I first started coming here, Harry looked unhappy. I know he
thought I was a hooker -- excuse me, call girl. I was shocked the first
time one of the men in the bar approached me to negotiate a deal, but
I've learned to laugh it off. Because I know if I get upset, Harry will
tell him. And he won't take it kindly.

He's the only one I'm interested in. I hope he's here tonight. I scan
the room casually, but he hasn't arrived yet.

That's the big secret. I've been meeting him on the sly for a couple of
months now. We don't really talk much; I don't even know his last name
and he doesn't know mine. We just have a drink and then fuck.

Last week, we went out to my car, and I gave him a blowjob, since I had
my period and wasn't really up for anything else. The week before, he
went down on me in the ladies' room. One time, we had sex in a booth way
in the back of the bar. I had bruises on my back for a week from banging
into the edge of the table.

"Is this seat taken?"

I inhale sharply. While I was reminiscing, he arrived.

"It is now, sugar."

He gives me a little half-smile and sits. Harry nods and puts a pint in
front of him. He looks me up and down and that smile grows into a sexy
grin as he takes in the floral sundress I have on.

"How've you been?" I ask, a little breathless from anticipation. I'm not
wearing any panties, and I know he can see the shadow of my pussy
through the dress when I move, even in the dim light of the bar. I can
feel the humid rush of desire between my legs, and I don't even want to
go through the usual chat before we get it on.

Most people would probably say I should be ashamed of fucking a man I
met in a bar, but I'm not. Not when it feels so good. Not when I was
starved for touch for so long.

His hand, long fingers with neatly trimmed nails, slides up my thigh. I
turn to face him and part my legs, trying to let him know just how ready
I am.

He throws a twenty down on the bar and offers me a hand. "Let's go," he
says.

"Lead the way." I take his hand and he tucks it beneath his arm. He's
really quite gallant. I was surprised by that, the first time he did it.

And another surprise -- we head toward the elevators instead of my car.
I raise an eyebrow and he gives me the sexy grin again. "I have a room."

"Oh." We get on the elevator and I can feel desire uncurling in my
stomach and radiating through my body. "I don't know if my husband would
approve."

That checks him for an instant and he looks down at my left hand, which
does, in fact, have a plain platinum band around the ring finger. He
pulls me into his arms and kisses me softly. "Then you probably
shouldn't tell him." He kisses me again before I can voice agreement.

His hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, rubbing circles on my back
and it feels so good. It's almost overwhelming, even now, the feel of
skin on skin. I could almost come just from that.

As if he can read my mind, he leans over and pulls the emergency stop
button. The elevator grinds to a halt and he walks me to the bar that
lines the back wall of the car. He lifts me up so I'm sitting on it, and
steps between my knees, all the while kissing me.

I moan when he eases the straps of my dress down and massages my nipples
until they're hard and aching. Then he licks at them, sliding his tongue
over the curve of my breast in slowly narrowing circles until he takes
the nipple in his mouth and sucks, hard.

Electricity bolts through me and I arch into him, moaning, my hands
anchored in his hair. I'm grinding against him, as he applies the same
treatment to the other breast.

I unzip his jeans and pull his cock out. He's already slick with
pre-come and I know neither of us is going to last long, and that's
okay. Sometimes quick and dirty is the best way.

He widens his stance a little and I slide forward, trying to maintain my
balance and get him inside of me at the same time.

"Naughty girl," he rumbles in my ear, his hands on my thighs, fingers
digging into my ass. "You're so impatient."

"I want you inside me now," I say. He chuckles and kisses me, his tongue
thrusting into my mouth the way his cock is pushing into my pussy. I
close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him as he goes deeper and then
pulls out.

In and out, in and out. He's controlling it and he's not going fast
enough to suit me. "Harder," I whisper, gripping his biceps tightly.
"Faster."

His teeth nip at my clavicle and he nods. His hips piston into mine, and
the friction is so good it's almost unbearable. I open my eyes and he's
staring at me.

I always try to keep my eyes open so I can watch him come, but I can't
ever manage it. I'm usually so close to orgasm myself by that point that
I can't think. I'm nothing but nerve endings and sensation.

Hot.

Wet.

His.

Everything inside my body tightens unbearably and I know I'm going to
climax. I love that moment right before, when everything in me *knows*
I'm going to come. Sometimes I wish it could last forever, that moment
before you fall into bliss. I quiver with the knowledge before the
orgasm rolls through me, making my whole body convulse. I tighten my
grip around his cock, taking him even deeper as my hips buck up against
his, hard, and I shudder in his arms.

I open my eyes and for once get to watch him, his hazel eyes glazed with
passion, his body vibrating fiercely from the force of his orgasm.

"Fuck, Marie," he groans, and I can feel the liquid warmth of his come
inside me.

"Logan," I sigh. "Love you so much."

"Love you too, baby."

I can never keep the pretense up at that point; I can't pretend he's not
my husband as well as my lover. I love him too much, and the rest is
secondary, a silly game of thrills and secrets we play with each other.

We ride out the last waves of our climax together, and then he pulls out
a handkerchief to help me clean up before he starts the elevator on its
way up to his room.